


we become the flowers

by cha0tic3vil



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Body Horror, Corruption related nastiness and i mean that, Emetophobia, F/F, Jane Prentiss is her own warning, Mild Hurt/Comfort, The Corruption, The crawling rot leaves Jane and Sasha picks up the pieces, Trypophobia, graphic descriptions of. Well. jane prentiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:00:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26201536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cha0tic3vil/pseuds/cha0tic3vil
Summary: Sasha finds something else in Artifact storage.
Relationships: Sasha James/Jane Prentiss
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	we become the flowers

“Jon! Jon, I think there’s someone here. Hello? I see you. Show yourself.”

There was no response from the crumpled form on the floor. Sasha shuffled closer to it. A distinct smell permeated from the thing, one that made Sasha want to recoil and run. But there were no worms, she reminded herself. And if there were no worms, she would be okay. “Hello?” She asked hesitantly. Perhaps it’s an institute employee. Someone who works in artifact storage. “Oh, God, Moira?” The figure didn’t move. Sasha mentally scrambled for another coworker who could possibly make up a figure this tiny. “J … Janice?” She finally scrambled around to face the figure, and bent down. 

A bloodshot brown eye met hers. Sasha screamed.

Jane Prentiss shifted slightly, pulling herself onto one of her elbows. Sasha was backing away as fast as she could, but she quickly hit the far wall. The only exits would require passing Prentiss once again. “Oh, God, please!” She gasped, shielding her face with her arms. 

Nothing came. 

Only after a minute had passed was Sasha able to open her eyes, if just a crack. Cautiously, she lowered her hands, staring down the space between her and Prentiss. There wasn’t a worm to be seen. Sasha stared, and Jane stared back, her single eye wide. Pleading. Jane took a shaky breath in, and wheezed, hacking out a glob of dark liquid. Their gazes locked, Sasha slowly lowered herself to her knees, until they were on the same eye level. “He …” She felt foolish. “Hello?”

Jane Prentiss opened her mouth. Her lips were cracked and peeling where they weren’t caked in blood and mucus. As she exhaled, her breath whistled through the small holes in her cheeks. 

“Help,” she croaked. 

  
  
  


“I don’t understand why we haven’t thrown her out yet.”

“What about ‘the building’s under quarantine’ don’t you get, Tim?”

“Yes, I get that, but it seems like we could announce ourselves-”

“-Jason from accounting from went to  _ stick his hand out _ -”

“-say, ‘hey! We've got patient zero, right here!”

“-and they fired a bloody warning shot at him. No one leaves. The CDC will send in their own workers, and when that happens, we can … negotiate.”

“Are we  _ negotiating _ now? I think this is a pretty clear cut case.”

“Jon, I’m telling you, I …” The woman’s voice got softer. Jane wanted to get up, to press her ear to the door, but she could barely move her legs. Even if she could, she was sure that the gathering outside wouldn’t appreciate it. Experimentally, she tried to shift her leg. It wobbled awkwardly, bumping against the desk she was hiding behind. That’s what she got for having holes eaten through her muscles. 

“... I don’t care! You can’t outvote me when we’re debating handing someone’s life over.” Jane blinked passively at the door.  _ Why is she being nice to me? I tried to kill her friends. _ That particular realization hit her oddly. _ I did, didn’t I _ . “Honestly, Martin, I thought you’d be on my side.”

“Sorry if I’m not exactly thrilled to have the woman who stalked me for two weeks as a house guest.” Jane recognized that voice.  _ I did that, too.  _ It was a hollow realization.  _ I did that, and I wanted to.  _ She wasn’t sure what to think of that. 

“... can’t stop me. You can’t!” The doorknob turned, and Jane tensed as much as she could. “Yes, well, until Elias shows his face and expressively fires me for taking care of a sick woman, I’ll be on my way!” The door opened, and then prompts slammed. There was a short lived volley of protesting from outside, and a soft thud as the woman set something on the ground. Then, they were alone.

Jane had somehow dragged herself behind Jon’s desk when Sasha found her. “Hey.” The other woman shrank away at the sound of Sasha’s voice. Sasha cursed herself, and softened her tone. “Hey. Jane? Jane Prentiss?” The single brown eye flicked toward her. “I’m Sasha. Sasha James.” 

There was a tense pause. Then, “Hi.” It was still horribly raspy, in a way that sent a pang through Sasha’s chest. 

“Are you …” No. Wrong question. “How can I help?”

Jane stared intently at the floor before her. She seemed as though she was thinking. Then, “The Hive is gone.”

“I can see that,” Sasha replied. 

“Everything feels … wrong.” There was an odd wobble to the end of her sentence. 

“Are you hungry?” Sasha offered. Truthfully, she had no idea what she was doing. Jane blinked. 

“I don’t know.”

“Have you eaten in … a while?”

“I didn’t need to.” 

“At least have some water.” Jane nodded slowly, and Sasha handed her a water bottle, before quickly retracting it when she saw how badly Jane’s hands shook. “Alright. Alright.” Sasha shuffled closer. Jane flinched back when she reached forward. “Sorry. I’m just getting your hair out of your face.” The second time, she allowed it. Sasha held the bottle, and Jane tilted her head to drink. There was a great deal of spluttering, and Jane gave an awful, wet cough as soon as it was down, but she nodded when Sasha asked if she felt alright. Perhaps there weren’t so many holes in her stomach that eating would kill her. 

“I want to …” How do I phrase this? “... observe you. All of you.” Not a good way to phrase it. If Jane had had any hair left on her face, she would have raised an eyebrow. “I mean, you’re covered in filth. You can’t blame me.” Jane’s gaze dropped sullenly at this. “Sorry.” 

“I understand.” It was barely audible. Sasha grimaced. 

“I’d like you to sit on the desk, if that’s alright. That way I can get a good look at you.” 

“I can’t stand.” 

“I can carry you.” Sasha shifted ever closer, and Jane stiffened. “Is that … okay?”

“That’s okay.” 

“Okay.” Hesitantly, Sasha reached out. The putrid smell of rot was overwhelming as she reached forward to wrap her arm under Jane’s legs. She tried not to squirm when their skin brushed. Jane’s flesh was horribly tender. It felt more like two well cut pieces of fish than a pair of human legs, and Sasha was nervous as she slowly began to lift her, and the meat would sluff right off her bones. It didn’t, though, and Sasha was able to lift her with little difficulty. Now that she was free of worms, it was almost starting how truly small Jane Prentiss was. She couldn’t have been taller than five feet, and she was horribly thin. Sasha wondered as she set her down how much heavier she would have been if she was full of worms. 

The light was not flattering to Prentiss. Her hair was matted beyond hope of detangling, and caked with foul smelling gunk and crust. It didn’t help her appearance to push the mass from her face. One of her eyes had been entirely eaten away, and the skin of her eyelid sagged over where it had once been. The empty socket wept a sickly green liquid. A series of holes, all a perfect half-centimeter in diameter, smattered the tissue of her nose and cheeks. The flesh under her chin was torn, almost to unrecognizable as a sheet of skin.  _ The worms must have grown and festered in her lymph nodes _ , Sasha thought faintly. Jane observed her expressionlessly. “Uhm,” Sasha said, and her voice was very thick, “okay. Okay.”

“It’s alright.” She almost jumped. Jane’s gaze was slow and sad. “I know how I look.” 

“It’s not that bad,” Sasha gagged. 

“It’s that bad.” 

“Okay, it’s that bad.” The two shared a soft, dry laugh. Sasha stood, suddenly more determined than ever. “I’m going to wash your face,” She said. “And then I’m going to bandage your chin. And … we’ll see where to go from there.”

“Why?” Jane’s voice was quiet. 

“I …” Sasha swallowed. “I have the feeling that … now that the worms are gone, you’re probably prone to infection in a way you weren’t before.”

Jane shook her head. “The Hive  _ was _ infection. I was full of bacteria. Full of life. But it didn’t matter. It made me stronger.”

“And now that … the Hive has gone?”

Jane didn’t have an answer. 

All the bobby pins in the world wouldn’t have controlled Jane’s hair, so Sasha had her tilt her head back as she worked. She was considerably taller than the other woman, even as she sat on Jon’s desk, and reaching her face was easy. That was where the simple part of the procedure ended. Sasha had taken a first aid course years ago, but that was where her medical experience ended. For a long moment, she simply stared down, trying to formulate a plan of attack. Jane cracked her eye open, expression questioning. “I’m working on it,” Sasha told her. The eye closed. 

After a moment of consideration, Sasha went to retrieve the first-aid kit she’d bought. In it, she found a washcloth, which she quickly doused in water. Hesitantly, and as gently as she could, she reached up to press it to Jane’s cheek. Jane flinched away. “Sorry. Does that hurt?”

“Stings.”

“Sorry.” Sasha swept the cloth across Jane’s forehead. It was moderately untouched compared to the rest of her face.  _ It makes sense, _ Sasha thought.  _ The worms probably couldn’t get through bone.  _ The cloth came off off-brown and greasy. Sasha adjusted it in order to get a clean section. “I’m … going to clean your eye. The socket, I mean.” Jane nodded slowly. Sasha gulped. Gingerly, she touched the loose skin of Jane’s eyelid. It was crusted shut; if Jane had had any eyelashes left, they undoubtedly would have been torn out in the mess of it all. Sasha pressed the wash cloth to it, and the crust crumbled under the water. Jane grimaced but said nothing. 

Jane’s skin wasn’t as grey as it looked once it was clean. The grime caking it had given her an even more sickly tint, and though she certainly didn’t look  _ healthy _ now, there was a certain warmth to it that Sasha hadn’t noticed before. It was dark olive, and though it was pocked with holes and scars and acne, seeing Jane’s face clean made Sasha’s heart sing in a way she wasn’t quite comfortable expressing aloud. Only once she’d bandaged the gaping hole under Jane’s chin, and washed her hands with a bit of water and hand sanitizer, did Jane reach up to touch her face. She felt around for a moment, expression unreadable as her small fingers darted across her cheekbones and the bridge of her nose, tracing the parameters of the holes. There was a long pause. Then:

“I think I should be dead.” 

Sasha stared. Jane stared right back. “No. I should have died with the Hive. This feels wrong. I shouldn’t be alive.” 

“What’s it like?” Sasha asked quietly. “Being without … the Hive?”

“It …” Jane stared at the ground. “It’s cold. It’s very cold.” The words came out as more of a rasp than a sentence. Hesitantly, Jane reached forward and clasped Sasha’s hand where it lay on the desk. Sasha only watched as Jane brought her hand to her cheek. The pad of Sasha’s ring finger plugged one of the holes in Jane’s flesh as the smaller woman leaned into her touch. Sasha felt herself pressing back. Jane’s cheek was cool, clammy. Sasha’s palms were sweating. Jane’s thumb brushed a circle across the inside of Sasha’s wrist. “Thank you,” She said, voice still rough and quiet. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.” Sasha’s voice wobbled oddly. “We’ve still got to wash the rest of you. Jane looked up, and nodded. She placed Sasha’s hand back on the desk in a manner so gentle that Sasha found herself smiling down at it. 

Wordlessly, Jane undressed. The dress she had worn must have been red at some point, but it was the color of rust now as it fell quietly to the floor. Her body was a mess of holes, blood, and puss. Massive clusters of them had formed in her underarms, under her clavicles, by the outer edges of her breasts, and by her hip bones, just above her vagina.  _ Lymph nodes.  _ They cut through the soft tissue of her stomach, though those holes looked as if they were shallow, and traveled just under the skin. “I think the worms were avoiding your internal organs,” Sasha commented. “Probably the only reason you’re still alive.” 

Jane nodded, but said nothing. She was intently eyeing one of the cabinets, and Sasha almost certain she was blushing. “I’m sorry,” Sasha said softly. “This must be embarrassing.”

“It’s necessary.”

Jon’s desk would already have to be replaced on account of all the dead worms, so Sasha didn’t feel awful about getting water on it. Jane sat patiently as Sasha poured the last of the large water bottle she’d brought over her head. She only shivered in response as Sasha wiped her down. “I have a spare set of clothes that you can change into when we’re done,” Sasha added. Jane nodded, glancing away again Sasha washed the inside of her thigh. 

When Sasha had finally cleaned the last bits of filth from Jane’s body, gently bandaged each cluster of holes, and dressed her in a spare shirt and long skirt, the two breathed out. Sasha was exhausted. The adrenaline in her had nullified, leaving her feeling heavy and tired. She could feel Jane’s gaze on her as she turned back to the first aid kit. “I … think there’s a comb in here. I could try to work on your hair.”

“Cut it off.” Sasha blinked. Jane’s eye was mournful but resolute. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I don’t want it. It feels …” She shivered. “Please.”

“Okay.” There was a large pair of paper shears in Jon’s desk drawer. They were heavy in Sasha’s hand as she circled around Jane. She took a clump of black hair in her hands, as gently as she could. Jane still tensed. “Are you sure?”

“Please do it, Sasha.” Jane’s voice was tight and sad. Sasha rested a hand on her shoulder, and Jane leaned into her touch once again. Sasha drew a quick circle across her skin, before reaching into her hair once again.

Jane’s hair was thick, and the matts were difficult to cut through. The oil caking her air made the scissors slip and twist oddly. It would have been a disservice to simply call the haircut uneven; it looked as if a child had done it. There were patches of hair that simply fell out when Sasha touched them. Still, after what must have been at least twenty minutes of relentless hacking, the mess of hair fell away to reveal a pale scalp that Sasha was absolutely shocked to see was free of lice. She pushes the stinking mess of hair into the garbage under Jon’s desk. Slowly, Jane reached up and ran her hand over her scalp. “It’s … pretty uneven,” Sasha informed her, cringing as she circled back around. “There are a few bald bits, nothing I could really do there. Once I’ve got my hands on some clippers, I imagine we can clean it right up.”

“It’s  _ perfect. _ ” Jane almost sounded happy. Her face twitched into a lopsided smile. Sasha reached down, and clasped Jane’s hands in her own. 

“I’m glad.” Jane was still shivering. Sasha glanced about, before spying the coat she’d discarded on the floor when she first entered. Gently, she draped it around Jane’s shoulders. “I need to find you some socks,” She said. 

“Sasha?”

“Yes?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“I thought we already talked about this.”

“No, but  _ really. _ ” Jane wasn’t meeting her eyes. “I … I tried to kill your friends. I tried to kill you.” 

Sasha looked at her for a moment. “ _The Hive_ tried to kill me.” Jane hung her head. “Right?”

“I don’t … know. When it’s … in you, it doesn’t feel like … it felt like me.” Jane sounded close to tears. “I think it was me.” 

“Do you want to kill me now?” Sasha asked softly. 

“No!” Jane looked up. Her eye was watery and wide. 

“Then it wasn’t you.” 

Jane stared at her for a long moment, before she grasped at Sasha’s hand, tugging her forward. Sasha fell willingly into the embrace. Jane’s fragile body melted into hers, grasping weakly, her fingers hooked into the back of her shirt. The putrid scent of rot wasn’t gone, but there was something else under it. Some that was uniquely Jane. Sasha found herself stroking Jane’s patchy head. She felt the hairs on her neck rustle as Jane spoke. 

“You’re warm,” she said. “You’re warm.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, nyall! I couldn't stop thinking about this concept so here it is. I hope you like it, and that it wasn't too icky. LMK if there are any additional/warnings I should add.


End file.
